Serpent Under the Flower
by Strange and Intoxicating -rsa
Summary: The sweet intoxication of the forbidden, like a viper's fangs against tender flesh. Vanity, addiction, destruction-a love that cannot survive. Angeal/Genesis/Sephiroth/Zack/Cloud
1. Act I: The Stage Is Set

Serpent Under the Flower

By: Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-

Author Notes: I have been plotting and planning and scheming with this story since I released P_ray Their Graces _and then _Fiend Angelical_. From its conception on that very bizarre day I knew that this story would be the most difficult thing I have ever planned on writing, and I put it off. I did this for almost two years before deciding to hunker down, suck it up, and _write_ the damn thing. However, I did the research. I decided to give this a green light after meeting a poly group and having them almost literally _explain_ exactly how it works, and since then it's weighed heavily on my subconscious.

This story will take five men and put them in a relationship with one another. It's not going to be easy, and it's probably not always going to be happy, but I will try my hardest to make sure it is satisfying.

Note that the title is, once again, from Shakespeare.

Warnings: This story _**contains homosexual content**_. There will be five men, in various states, having sexual relations. There will also be violence, crude language, blasphemy, and what I'll name "the really not nice buffer" to cover any and all potential yucky things. This is intended for mature audiences. If you are underage I ask you not to continue reading or keep your age to yourself. I get creeped out thinking about a twelve year old reading this.

Disclaimer: I, Strange and Intoxicating -rsa-, do not own, think I own, or will ever own Final Fantasy VII or its Compilations. I write because it produces great entertainment and joy for me, and I love contributing twisted things to fandom.

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Serpent Under the Flower

Chapter One

Genesis was fond of poetry; sonnets and ballads, cinquains and epistles, odes, quatrains, and villanelles. It didn't matter what it was classified under, he enjoyed it all. Something beautiful happened when words were combined by someone with a sharp mind and a sharper pen.

He wrote his own poetry when the mood struck. He had written at least a hundred different endings for_ Loveless_, and though satisfying in its own particular way there was something always missing. It would never be quite good enough for anyone's eyes but his own. Surely it was better than most, but until Genesis could look down on his writing and say with conviction that it was complete, that his masterpiece was finished, he would hide it from prying eyes.

His other work could be found in various stages of progress—some in leather-bound books, others smudged with ink and hidden underneath the floorboards from the privy eyes of his mother (or worse yet, his no-nonsense father) could not reach. The disparaging glare from his parents kept Genesis on a tighter leash than he could appreciate—how was he, the artist of the family, supposed to do anything with his life when bound in their chains? His back could only bend so far.

His father wanted Genesis to join the Shinra Army; had since he was a small child. Genesis was sure that was the only reason he was allowed to interact with commoners in town. His father only mocked the peasants, enjoyed watching them work for their bread and when they failed. He never even thought to lend a hand or any amount of gil to the people that kept Banora alive.

"_To be a SOLDIER means knowing your place. Knowing your place is far above others. It's much like being the mayor and a major share-holder in a company; you can learn much from me before heading out on your own._"

Genesis Rhapsodos called bullshit.

Resting his pen on the worn leather cover, the red-haired teenager let out a sigh. The clock in the corner of his desk nestled between several militaristic strategy texts proclaimed the time to be well-past midnight.

_Good._

Genesis stood from his desk chair, pulling his arms up and allowing his back to pop, stretching his neck from side to side, Regarding the room coolly—the half-packed boxes and clothing scattered across the room adding a certain air of finalization—Genesis pushed his chair in and grabbed his new red coat.

(His mother seemed deeply shamed that the only thing her son wanted for a goodbye present was the maid to make him a banora-white pie and a flamboyantly red leather coat. What would the neighbors think of their questionably odd son...?)

He slipped the leather jacket on, pushing his arms through the sleeves. The jacket creaked, a sound Genesis knew he needed to get used to, and he took a few exaggerated moments to flip his bangs from his eyes.

It felt...

Genesis bit his lip and grabbed the corner of his jacket, clicking his boots and took three strides toward his mirror.

He did this when he was younger, when his parents and the maid would be be gone. It was something he liked to do, something that helped convince him that he was going to be _something_. He never told Angeal that he did it—his sense of narcissism wasn't something he wanted to brag about to his friend. Angeal had problems even looking in mirrors—didn't even like to shave. Genesis liked how he looked and was quite comfortable in his own skin, but... It wasn't that he feared who he was—in fact, Genesis knew once he left this backwater speck on the map he would finally be out from under his father's thumb and could flaunt who he was without a care—it was simply that...

Gaia really wasn't ready for him yet.

They would be soon, though.

Genesis looked into the mirror, turning his cheek to the left and tilting his head up. He smirked, something his mother always told him he was good at. It would be intimidating one day in the not too far off future—SOLDIER First Class. He already could beat Shinra SOLDIER Third-Classes; the local Shinra doctor, Professor Hollander, flew in several SOLDIERs for tests. Of course Genesis would have to go through all of the legalities when he and Angeal got to Midgar, but they were already a shoe-in for SOLDIER.

_We even have our mako shots._

Genesis couldn't exactly explain why they already had their shots, but Hollander took care of them since they were kids and it all led to the same place. SOLDIER First Class was within his grasp. He could almost taste it on his tongue like a ripe fruit.

Looking back into the mirror, he straightened his coat and put his hands on his waist, cocking his head up. The mako in his eyes made his entire face light up eerily. The look would frighten the pants off of Shinra's enemies soon. Exactly like Sephiroth.

Sephiroth. Genesis felt his body shake. Ever since Sephiroth showed up on the front page of _Midgar Times_ he wanted to meet him, wanted to be just like him. It didn't matter that Genesis was older than Sephiroth, or that Sephiroth seemed colder than a winter at Icicle Inn. It just mattered that Sephiroth was the one to beat, the one to _be_ and Genesis didn't take no for an answer. Nature dictated that he and Sephiroth would be friends, be rivals.

"SOLDIER," Genesis whispered with reverence. "I'm going to be a SOLDIER."

He remembered saying such things in front of the mirror as a kid; posing and talking to the mirror as if it were his audience and he the main actor. But there was something missing, a vital piece of the puzzle.

The teenager looked over his form—he needed a sword, of course... but there was something else missing. Genesis pulled at his shoulder and glanced at the mirror, hoping that if he stared at it long enough whatever was missing would pop into place and reveal itself.

And it did. It was a glance to the corner of his mirror when he noticed it—the book on his desk. _Loveless_. A trademark, a symbol... his very own Masamune.

"_When the war of the beasts brings about the world's end  
__The goddess descends from the sky  
__Wings of light and dark spread afar  
_

_She guides us to bliss, her gift everlasting._"

A lightbulb over his head—

"Genesis Rhapsodos, the beloved General. Shinra's First-Class Poet. First Class SOLDIER." His last words came out a whisper, "Genesis Rhapsodos... Sephiroth's only competition."

He turned quickly and grabbed the book, his inane drabbles and beautiful lines and the most epic poem ever created.

"The pen is mightier than the sword," he mused, tucking the tome into his jacket pocket. Turning back to the mirror, Genesis smiled.

* * *

Angeal looked into his friend's window and chuckled. It was a good thing Genesis was so absorbed in looking at himself in the mirror to notice that his friend was watching—Genesis would kill him. It was funny watching him strut like a peacock around his room, juggling between packing his boxes and staring at himself in the mirror.

Sitting in his home, staring at his empty walls and listen to his mother cry through the paper-thin walls wasn't the way Angeal wanted to say goodbye to Banora. She had kept it together through the entire day—up until Angeal kissed her goodnight and Gillian broke down outside his bedroom door. After losing his father a few months before his mother had been tethering on the edge of a precipice; hopefully this didn't push her over it. Angeal didn't want to leave her alone to the weary life the Hewley's lived for generations. But... Shinra loomed in the distance, a place with no night and no day, Midgar the perpetual city of motion.

Angeal batted his knuckles against the wooden frame of the window, causing Genesis to turn sharply (dropping his pose without preamble) and grab a few things in his haste to covering up his adventure of mirror-gazing. He sighed, flipped his bangs, and threw the layaway shirt and book on the bed before stalking over to the double-window and forcing it open. If Angeal hadn't backed away (skinning his hands on the tree's bark) he would have fallen down roughly three stories and probably killed himself.

"You should know by now that you can just open the damn thing from out there. I don't understand why you don't just call and tell me you're coming over—I know your brain is a little bigger than a walnut," Genesis taunted. He flamboyantly gestured to Angeal. "Are you going to come in or not? I could just push you out of that tree, if you want. Let's see what my father thinks of you dying in his front yard."

Angeal grunted as he pulled himself through the open window, bucking against the edge of the window and tree. Genesis grabbed him from under his armpits and tugged him with a little effort; he was almost through the window when he unceremoniously began falling down. The hardwood floor looked painful and not fit for impact... and he didn't even want to know what Genesis's parents would say when they were woken to the peasant boy sneaking into their son's room. But, luckily for Angeal (and unluckily for his best friend) Genesis took it up himself to soften the blow—and the noise—cushioning his body before Angeal fell.

Awkward.

"Can you get off me?" Genesis grunted, pushing against Angeal's shoulders. Genesis's face was flushed and pained... he could tell because their faces were about an inch apart. When he spoke, Angeal could feel the words whisper on his face.

Even more awkward.

"Sorry," he said, untangling himself His hand accidentally landed on Genesis's thigh rather than the floor he was flustering to reach, but Angeal played it off smoothly and didn't flinch when the other teenager hit hm in the back of the head.

"You oaf, what am I going to do with you?"

Angeal didn't respond.

The redhead ran a hand through his hair and turned back to the unpacked mess of his room. "Want to help me finish up?" he asked while already handing clothes and books to Angeal. "I need to have everything done by tomorrow morning, before those planes come to pick us up. Heaven knows that I can't leave anything here—with my luck, my father will turn this bedroom into a study or something."

Juggling with the massive pile of clothes Genesis handed him, Angeal set them on top of the bed (hearing Genesis groan about making sure to fold them neatly, not like a retarded beast) and slowly began to work in silence.

It was nice, the silence. There was something about the quiet that comforted Angeal, though he couldn't exactly pin-point the exact cause. Was it nice just to hear his own breathing and the bare scruffing of his boots on the floor.

It didn't take much longer for Genesis to become agitated, spending more of his time looking through his books or refolding his cloths than he was packing.

"Let's take a breather," Angeal said as he put down a packed box, wiping a bead of sweat from his eye.

Genesis nodded and put one of his sweaters down on his mussed bed. "Lets," he murmured. "Want to go outside?"

"I'll never be able to get back in."

"Very true," Genesis laughed before flopping backward. The boxes balancing on his bed shook. "You think we're ready to go?"

Not responding immediately, Angeal sat down on the other side of the bed and leaned back before catching himself on his elbows. He turned his head sideways, assessing his friend. "Probably not," he admitted, "but it's our duty to be ready."

The other boy tsked. "Do you think the other SOLDIERs are going to give us a hard time?"

Angeal shrugged before realizing Genesis couldn't see him. He responded caustically with, "You? Most definitely," before letting his arm give out below him and dropping him to the mattress. The springs made a low squeak of disapproval and he noted that Genesis's ceiling was a shade or two lighter than the walls. "I doubt there will be any catastrophic problems."

"Think Sephiroth'll be there?"

"The better question is if Sephiroth'll _care,_" Angeal responded.

Genesis said nothing.

"I think your obsession with Sephiroth is admirable, but also foolish." Angeal didn't turn to his friend. He continued, "Despite the fact that Hollander says that we're stronger and more well-equipped for SOLDIER because of our childhood experiences, I doubt we'll be able to achieve the stature Sephiroth reached in as short of a time period as he."

"Maybe not as fast," Genesis admitted with a hint of jealousy, "but we'll still get there. Sephiroth is going to be my rival. Just give it a year, maybe two, and I'll we'll be on equal footing."

Of course Genesis would be optimistic.

With renewed vigor, Genesis pulled himself off the bed and began packing his things, while Angeal lay stoic in the same space.

He buried his face into the comforter, closing his eyes and allowing the warm smell that reminded Angeal of home to lull him to sleep.

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	2. Act 1, Scene 1: The Introverted Heroes

Funny enough, this chapter's been complete since... March. My bad, you guys!

Serpent Under the Flower

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Chapter Two

Sephiroth removed the IV from his arm, glancing toward the clock on the wall. It was a few minutes past three in the afternoon, and he knew it wouldn't be long until he was expected to meet the new recruits. It was one of his responsibilities as the poster-child of Shinra's elite SOLDIERs. Their faces all looked the same, the speech was written my the same man, with almost the same blunt and boring sentences. He would say a few words, impress the masses, and go back to his room and sleep off his mako injections for the day.

He had been warned in advance that there were a few 'new' members that he would be expected to get along with. Rather than joining the cadets for a stint in the army, they were Hollander's pet projects were immediately ready for active duty with SOLDIERs.

He held in a contemptuous laugh. Hojo had been telling him for weeks that nothing Hollander made could even possibly pass as ready for anything other than the trash. He was given their files, and it was a little impressive (though Sephiroth did not dare even suggest such a thing to Professor Hojo) that they weren't dead. At least that could be said about the project: They were the only two to survive. There must have been something good about them... or, as Hojo suggested more than once, a fluke of science.

Hojo. Hojo hated Hollander's work, and Sephiroth never wanted to dig deep enough into the topic to figure it out. It wasn't his business.

He didn't want it to become his business, either.

Sephiroth blinked through the haze of green and stared up into the brightness of the halogen lamps. It burned more than he would admit (sensitivity to light was one of the worst after-effects of having mako pumped into his body) but he continued to stare into the light with little qualm. Nothing could really hurt him, according to Hojo. What else could he do with his time? It didn't hurt as much as the others complained. Just a burning through his retinas that radiated through his skull, sending little jolts into his brain.

If anything, it was normal.

Sephiroth breathed through his nose and out through his mouth.

Today was just another boring day.

With a grunt, the boy sat up and blinked his eyes, ridding the green spots from his vision. Disorientation from the mako reminded him not to move around too much because it would cause potential mishaps—like when he was fourteen and fell down a flight of stairs and nearly broke his neck. Hojo kept him in an isolation tank for a week to figure out if there was a problem with his special specimen. Nothing happened (other than more discomfort, but that was something that affected his daily life, so there was not much to be said on the particulars) and he was released with a clean bill of health, but rather than moving quickly, the pace was slower and more steady than his usual brisk walks.

He made it to the elevators, passing by the med-students who grew used to his constant presence. They ddi not stop him, nor attempt to lend a hand. During one of his particularly awful experience with Mako, he lead to the broken bones of no less than four medical students, and since they tended to stay well away from him.

Sephiroth did not mind; he minded very little.

* * *

Angeal would never say it, but he was nervous.

Genesis would find it funny, laugh like he was telling the funniest joke in the universe at Angeal's expense—and really, it was at his expense. He always was the strong one, the guy who stood at the ready and allowed the other kids around him to panic instead. The butterflies in his stomach were cruel, capricious beasts that he'd never had to deal with before now—and no matter if Genesis was his best friend, he'd get a kick from it.

Genesis stood next to him, perfectly still and with perfect posture, something that didn't happen with his friend very often. It was most likely Sephiroth being within spitting distance that kept Genesis from futzing around. Genesis's obsession with the other teenager made Angeal a little... frustrated. Of course, we would never say that to Genesis's face (Or Sephiroth, for that matter; he enjoyed his head firmly on his shoulders, after all) and tried washing the feelings under the proverbial bridge. It wasn't as though Genesis, or even Sephiroth (the bastard, Angeal added with a twinge of contempt) were at fault here; it lay specifically on Angeal's shoulders.

A price to pay for feeling things for your best friend, he was sure.

Again, he squashed down his feelings and stared at the podium where Sephiroth was giving a speech.

Genesis hung to every word. Angeal fought not to fall asleep.

It wasn't that Sephiroth's speech was bad or anything; in fact, it was an excellent speech that was well-written. But, could Sephiroth act any more _boring_ while giving it? While Angeal knew that he couldn't really blame him, it was actually quite hard to listen to the sixteen-year-old's clipped, bored tone.

Then again, after giving the same pep-talk to every grunt class that walked through Shinra's doors, he would be doing the same. It was more of a chore, Angeal could see from the boy's posture. He didn't like talking in front of others and his voice nearly broke twice: A reminder that he was barely legally allowed to be in Shinra, let alone be a weapon sent off to war. From what Hollander told them, Sephiroth has been trained by Shinra since birth, both mother and father unknown to most. Hollander knew but did not tell, saying it wasn't his place, even when Genesis threatened to leave the program until he knew every little detail about the other boy's life.

It only took a reminder that he would never get to meet Sephiroth if he quit the program to put Genesis back on track.

That particular trick worked every time, no matter what the old doctor did that angered him. Always, it came back to Sephiroth: Beating Sephiroth, Teaming with Sephiroth, Working with Sephiroth... Loving Sephiroth. While there were many things Angeal could be jealous of in regards to Shinra's weapon, he still couldn't hold it against the guy. He was just like them.

A teenager.

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After being inducted to the ranks of Shinra's SOLDIER, Third Class, Genesis wanted to _celebrate_. There were a million things he wanted to do before his first mission, the top of that list pertaining to speaking with the legendary Sephiroth to express interest in becoming the boy's rival. While most would consider that callous and perhaps more than pig-headed, it was Genesis's way of making friends. When he was a child, it had been the only way to get Angeal to pay any attention to him. Even with his 'special skills' thanks to the mako, Mayor Rhapsodos did not see the use in his child attaching himself to a commoner, and made spending time with Angeal so much more difficult. Calling on a rivalry was sometimes the only way for Genesis to excuse the time spent with the other boy.

That is, before Genesis stopped caring so much about what his parents wanted from him and started acting on his own accord.

They never truly appreciated his ability of thinking for himself.

"Genesis, could you please stop _bouncing_?" Angeal asked, a smile ever present on his gruff friend's face.

Genesis looked away from his friend and back down the hallway, the gray steel walls echoing his friend's question. "I'm not entirely sure I want to right now," he responded and listened along as his voice drifted like a ghost in the smoggy air. The Shinra building would be a _fantastic_ place for Genesis to read poetry out loud; his voice simply shook against the metal and mako tomb. It was ethereal, beautiful, and with the words of an epic such as _Loveless_, it would be even more fantastic.

"We should probably go down to the canteen and grab something to eat before it closes," Angeal suggested, but Genesis shook his head, auburn hair flying in every direction.

"No. We're not going down to the canteen tonight. We'll go somewhere nice. After all, we're SOLDIERS now. Let's just go change into our new outfits and go explore the town." There was a chance Sephiroth would be in the canteen, but there was also a chance that he wasn't. And, if he wasn't, maybe Genesis would get a glimpse of him somewhere outside of the compound. Chances; there were _always_ chances.

And Genesis knew that all he needed was a chance and things would be smooth-sailing.

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	3. Act 1, Scene 2: A Destined Meeting

Chapter Three

Sephiroth glanced idly around the perimeter of the apartment complex, mako green eyes assessing the entirety of the area before he could so much as blink. Surprisingly enough, his mind could process the images as quickly as he saw them, allowing his body the optimal amount of time between knowing and killing. This particular mission had nothing to do with blood or carnage, but something inside Sephiroth told him to keep both his eyes open.

It was impossible for him to be slack, no matter the situation. If Hojo ever heard of Sephiroth slacking... he would be on his back in the hospital for a month with the slew of tests the good doctor would want performed. Despite his lack of emotional attachment to his limbs, it would be quite a hassle to grow new ones back (he had no doubts that Hojo would be able to do it, he simply wasn't sure if he had the time. As of late it was hard enough to breathe in the confines of privacy, let alone have his limbs reattached.)

Still, there was something that made Sephiroth feel almost... _uneasy_. He couldn't pinpoint the reason for the feeling, but knew it was something outside, something outside.

Eyes. He knew the feeling from Hojo, always staring, never leaving. This was it, yes... this was someone.

Someone was staring at him.

Sephiroth leaned toward the window again, tracing his fingertips across the glass. Someone was spying on him and he did _not_ enjoy it. On whose orders was it being done? Did Hojo not trust him to keep himself out of trouble while in the public eye? Perhaps it was the President, who feared Sephiroth would snap and take out the entire squadron?

_Calm yourself, or you will begin sounding like a paranoid drunkard._ Sephiroth took in a breath, leaning away from the window, though something caught his eye before he could fully pull away. Straightening himself, Sephiroth met the eyes that had been following him dead on. If he paid enough mind, he would be able to hear the beating of the teenager's heart, faster and faster in his chest. He would be lucky if it didn't come bursting out of his chest like a monster in a dream.

Sephiroth took in the boy's features, noting the pale skin, the bitten lips, the auburn hair blown to the side. He looked a little older than Sephiroth, perhaps eighteen, and around six feet tall. There was still baby fat to his cheeks—he would have been confused for a new recruit, if not for his mako-infused blue eyes that stared back at him and the Third-Class SOLDIER belt wrapped around his waist.

_Hollander's experiments. _

Sephiroth had gotten a decent look at this one at the ceremony only days before—much like the other new SOLDIERs, he'd listened with rapt attention and detail. His friend, the one with the dark hair, seemed to have fallen asleep midway through. It didn't trouble Sephiroth; on the contrary, he felt very much the same about the speeches, so it was entertaining to see someone acting out his own opinion.

This was also the same boy who had been staring forlornly over his meals in the canteen after being caught after hours the day he was promoted to Third-Class. And Sephiroth knew, without a doubt, that he continued to look toward him, though he could not place a reason as to why. They did not know one another, nor were they in the same platoon.

And now, he had escalated his moves to staring at him through a window.

_This must end,_ Sephiroth thought as he stepped back from the window fully and turned to walk through the white-washed room, grabbing his sword resting next to the door. He threw the door open, the metal handle pinging into the wall. There would be a dent, but that was not his job. _I have no doubt Hollander has put him up to this spying game. No doubt he would want a spy who has access to me at all times, one that has the chance to steal genetic material._

Sephiroth traversed the stared two at a time and quickly turned right and down the hall, toward the door. With another push, the door whipped open and Sephiroth had the boy by the throat against the wall, green eyes staring into an ocean of blue.

The boy gasped and grabbed at Sephiroth's hands, choking. With a careful control as to not snap his neck, Sephiroth eased the auburn-haired brat down onto the tiptoes of his feet and stared. The boy gulped, though the strength of his grip prevented much movement.

"You are following me. I ask that you desist at once. I assure you Hojo will have your head should you attempt anything with me." Sephiroth turned his mouth down, staring at the boy who barely shook. Sephiroth knew how strong he was and even knew of some of the stories spread around the compound about him (more than once Hojo was the one planting the false information, though Sephiroth did not care to find out the reason as to why. It wasn't his place.) "Receiving my DNA is not worth Hojo's wrath."

The SOLDIER gargled something, but Sephiroth could not make out exactly what he said, so he left him down on his feet and let go. With a slump, he fell into the wall behind him, breathing ragged. He coughed once, then again, before rubbing at his throat.

"I am not worth Hojo." Sephiroth rested the edge of his blade on the ground and leaned forward to stare at the annoyance. "This I assure you of."

"You've got no idea what you're worth," the boy muttered, continuing to rub at his neck, a pained expression crossing his face.

"Do not make threats to me. I am your superior."

Hollander's experiment looked up with wide eyes, no doubt remembering his place. "Sir, I..."

"At ease, SOLDIER. Your name." It was not posed in the slightest as a question.

"Rhapsodos. SOLDIER Third-Class Genesis Rhapsodos, sir..." The boy, no, _Genesis_, stared up at him with a frown. "What do you mean?"

Sephiroth blinked. "By what?"

Genesis's face flushed a little and he looked away. "About receiving your DNA?" He looked back at Sephiroth, directly into his eyes, and posed another question. "And how would I get this DNA, exactly? Sir, I don't mean to be rude, but these things are important to know..." He licked his lower lip.

Sephiroth looked closer at the boy, leaning forward to check for alcohol on his breath. "Don't play coy with me, SOLDIER. You should know that by now. You wouldn't be stalking me otherwise."

Rhapsodos had the decency to look ashamed. He let go of his neck and pushed himself off the wall. "Sir, I didn't mean any disrespect, truly. I just thought..."

"Thought that it would be a good idea to steal my DNA?" Sephiroth asked, crossing his arms in front of himself. "I do not know what you have heard, but there are certain things you should never do. This is one of them."

He had the decency to look ashamed. "I... I didn't know you would be this upset," he said as he pushed a hand through his hair. When he moved, Sephiroth saw the bruise of his hand already forming on the pale, smooth neck. It was already violent purple and would no doubt be much worse later. No doubt one of the superiors would ask questions. Yet, a part of Sephiroth felt a little semblance of something he could not quite register. It was an unwelcome feeling in the back of his lungs, like a weight put there to push him down. He'd never felt something like this before, and Sephiroth grabbed the cadet's arm, pulling him forward.

"No matter," he stated as he pulled the boy into the apartment complex. "You should come with me." There was a tug backward and Sephiroth turned and gave him a sharp look.

"I... I don't think this is a good idea," he voiced, but Sephiroth turned back around and continued toward the stairs, tightening his grip on the others arm. No doubt there would be a bruise there he would need to mend, as well. Sometimes having super-SOLDIER strength was such a burden. Still, it was what he had and there was nothing short of being snuffed that would stop it. Even Hojo didn't understand how to undo his greatest masterpiece if he lost his 'bag of marbles' as the lab techs said.

"SOLDIER, do not make me pull rank."

"But I don't think this is okay...?"

Sephiroth shuffled up the stairs and into his small room. "Shut the door," he said and waited for the door to click shut before pulling Rhapsodos toward his bed, the only place he could sit. The room was too small to have more than a cot and a bookshelf, but he did not require more room. As this was the first time anyone other than Hojo or himself had been in the room, he'd never needed a chair. So, the bed would have to do. "Please sit and do not move. Otherwise this may hurt more than it needs to."

The breathing patterns for the other teenager became erratic at best, apoplectic at worst. Sephiroth had the strangest desire to scratch his head in wonder. What was wrong with this new kid? Yes, some individuals felt intimidated by him, but one of Hollander's experiments? Failed experiment, yes, but still far stronger than the average SOLDIER. No doubt Genesis Rhapsodos would be able to take down a well-trained Second, even without the training.

Now, where had he put his bangle?

"I... won't you get in trouble?"

Sephiroth scanned the nightstand, the pile of his clothing, even his book shelf. "Why would I get into any kind of trouble, SOLDIER?" Sephiroth asked as he stepped toward his bathroom to get a potion from his medicine cabinet. "I am allowed to do as I please."

He came back in holding the potion bottle and watched as Rhapsodos squirmed further up the bed the closer Sephiroth walked to him. "Take the potion and you may leave," Sephiroth said as he pulled the cap off with his hand before holding it out, neck first. "Please do not attempt to steal my DNA again. Hollander may be your caregiver, but Hojo would have no qualm with using you for experiments. I am... not comfortable with you becoming a lab rat for a few strands of my hair."

"You're... you're kidding me?"

Sephiroth stared at the boy, confused. There was no other explanation to hi actions if not under the orders of Hollander. "You wanted my DNA. You were waiting outside with the hope I would come by, and you could take some of my hair. It would not be the first time something like that occurred, though the first time a Shinra employee did so. On multiple occasions I have been followed in the hopes I would throw something away with my saliva, or some of my hair would fall out. It is almost impossible to remove it, by the way. Many have tried."

"I... I thought you meant something else..."

"You weren't attempting to steal my DNA?" Sephiroth uncrossed his arms, letting them go limp at his side. "I do not understand. What did you want?"

"I wanted to ask you if you wanted to go to dinner, or maybe a movie, or even just a quick sparring match," he replied.

"But why would you want that?" Sephiroth asked. "Are you not aware of my status?"

Genesis shrugged and slushed the potion in the bottle, saying, "I didn't really think about it. I just thought that we could—never mind. I'm an idiot." He laughed, though it was very much filled with self-deprecation. Sephiroth could say he occasionally had issues in regards to emotions, but self-deprecation was one he knew very, very well.

"I'm not allowed to spar with others below rank, otherwise I would... contemplate your offer." Of course, this was what he was told was a 'white lie.' He did not understand much to it other than sparing the feelings of the individual most likely to be insulted. The fact was no one came close to Sephiroth's power, and to put him against a new recruit (no matter what Hollander had done to him as a child) would be murder. Sephiroth was many things, but a murderer he was not.

_Except when I am_.

The traitorous voice in his head occasionally spoke up at the most inopportune times, and it was hard to ignore.

"But what about dinner?" The boy looked as though he were ready to jump from the bed and attack him like a wild animal.

"Perhaps. But for now it would be best if you left." Sephiroth gestured toward the door and the SOLDIER jumped off the bed, a little lift in his step. Unable to tell how much his words impacted the other, he turned as the boy exited and stared back out the window, contemplating some of the questionable things Genesis Rhapsodos did and said.

It would keep him occupied for some time.

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